


Night Shift

by literaryoblivion



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [65]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, College Student Stiles, M/M, Suspicions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles works the night shift at the 24-hour convenient store, and when a unfairly hot dude starts coming in buying increasingly mysterious shit, Stiles starts to get worried for his safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> I received the following prompt on Tumblr: "I hope I'm not too late for prompts ! How about cashier Stiles, crushing and trying to understand the hot guy that keeps buying weird shit ? :D"
> 
> The tumblr post for this can be found [here](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com/post/93171667343/i-hope-im-not-too-late-for-prompts-how-about-cashier).

At first when Stiles took the job, it was mostly out of desperation.

He was working his way through college, and eating ramen for every meal was getting old. His dad was already in dire financial straits himself, so he didn’t want to ask him for more money. With his class schedule, though, the only job he could find that would pay well for the limited number of hours he could work was the late-night shift at the nearby 24-hour convenient store.

His town was pretty boring, and the crime rate (he knows because his dad looked it up) was inordinately low for a college town. He’d been warned with all these horror stories by his friends (uh he sure as hell wasn’t telling his dad about this job) about how he could get robbed and held at gunpoint or shot because everyone knows that’s what happens to convenient store clerks late at night. But Stiles wasn’t worried.

That is until the same man (albeit incredibly hot, with scruff and captivating blue/green eyes) kept coming in and leaving with some pretty odd items.

The first time the guy comes in, it’s almost 2am, the store is empty except for Stiles, and he’s currently trying to study for his history midterm in a few days (another perk of this job: no one’s around to care he’s not working).

Stiles notices him when he walks in of course, how could he not when the guy looks like a walking Greek statue. The guy spends about fifteen minutes in the store, and Stiles keeps an eye out on him from the monitors behind the counter, totally out of security reasons (not). When the man finally approaches the counter, he says hello in answer to Stiles’s hello, but says nothing else when Stiles scans and bags his items. The items being, a soda, a pack of gum, a razor blade, a roll of duck tape, and a pair of socks.

It seems a bit odd to Stiles, but he doesn’t comment. He hands the guy his change and his bag and says goodnight, the man grunting out a “night” as he leaves.

The next time it happens, it’s a very similar exchange. Stiles watches the hot dude wander the store for ten minutes in the middle of the night, says hello when he rings up his items (this time it’s a candy bar, a water, electrician’s tape, wire, and a lighter), and says good night when he leaves.

Stiles starts to worry though when it happens over and over again like clockwork. The dude comes in around 1:45am or 2am, spends a few minutes walking the aisles, then comes up to Stiles with some kind of drink, snack and various household items that look rather suspicious and could be used in a crime.

One time it was bug spray, and Stiles asks if he was having a bug problem, and the guy just shrugged and refused to say anything. Another time he bought packing tape and a roll of twine, so Stiles asked if he was moving, and the guy just smiled and said “Sure.”

Stiles thinks that maybe he should be writing all this info down and check the newspaper for any robberies or attempted murders.

The problem is that the guy is so damn hot. Like seriously, his eyes are insane, and he’s got these cute bunny teeth on the rare occasions Stiles can get him to smile. Stiles tries to make conversation with him, because the guy has been in almost everyday that Stiles has been on shift, and the Hot-Possibly-A-Murderer (HPAM) dude is always civil. He’s not friendly, more like quiet, but he always says hello and good night to Stiles before and then after their awkward and stilted interaction.

Stiles has noticed that the guy always comes in wearing jeans, a tight Henley, and a black leather jacket. He always buys some kind of drink, but he’s never bought alcohol, which is surprising since most people that come in that late at night usually always purchase beer. He must have a mean sweet tooth because he purchases candy more often than something salty.  He’s bought every kind of household item they sell in the tiny store that could double as a weapon or means of restraint, or tool to help in some kind of crime. And he always pays with cash (to obviously avoid a paper trail).

Stiles will admit that when the guy comes in, he looks a bit… tired. But, what normal person wouldn’t at 2 in the freakin’ morning? Stiles is barely keeping it together as it is because he’s averaging about four hours of sleep a night if he’s lucky, and ends up doing his homework at work (but he ate a steak last night, so he feels it’s worth it). His shoulders are usually slumped like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders (or the weight of a guilty conscience for all those crimes he’s probably committing, Stiles’s brain submits). Stiles contemplates offering to give him a massage, but then thinks he’d like to still be alive and not be connected in anyway to this possible serial killer.

It’s when HPAM comes in, holes in his usually pristine jeans, his hands scratched up, dried blood crusted on them, that Stiles decides it’s time he get some answers. He’s got his phone programmed for 911 just in case though.

HPAM gets to the counter, a case of beer (way out of the norm), a pack of Reese’s (very normal), a roll of duck tape (seriously how much duck tape does this guy go through?!), a can of WD-40, personal lubricant (Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine okay), and a flashlight.

"Rough day?" Stiles asks all casual-like when really he wants to yell that he’s too young to die.

"Yeah. Something like that," HPAM says with a sigh.

"Uh, do you need a bandaid?" Stiles says, which why the hell is he trying to help this guy?! Stiles has a death wish apparently.

The guy looks confused before he sees Stiles staring at his hands resting on the counter. He looks at them before putting them quickly in his pockets. “No. Thanks. I’m fine. It’s just some scratches.”

"Okay. So… uh, I’m going to need to see your ID for the beer," Stiles says, which good okay he can get some info on this dude in case he has to testify and give a statement to the police.

"Of course," HPAM says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and slipping out his license to hand over to Stiles.

The license has a nice picture of him, and the name Derek Hale, which does not ring any sort of bell to Stiles, but that doesn’t mean anything. According to his ID he’s 28 which yeah, okay.

Stiles holds out his hand with the license, and when HPAM, no  _Derek_ , goes to take it, Stiles pulls it back towards him. _  
_

"Be honest with me here, Derek, have you killed someone?"

Derek furrows his brow. “What?”

"I need to know if me knowing your name now means I’m in danger, and I’m next on your hit list. I need to get my affairs in order."

"What are you talking about?! No! I haven’t killed anybody! Why would you even think that?!"

"Because you’re buying beer!" Stiles blurts out, which isn’t really all he wants to say…

"You think I’ve murdered someone because I’m buying beer."

"I, no… that’s not the only reason. That’s actually not the reason. You always come in here and buy really mysterious shit," he says holding up the duck tape and WD-40, "and then today you come in all bloody and torn up and you buy beer, which you’ve  _never_  done, like you have to drown your guilt in alcohol!”

Derek starts laughing. Like bend over, holding his stomach, laughing. Stiles doesn’t get it.

"What is so funny?! This is serious, Derek! I am scared for my life right now, and your maniacal laughter is not helping the situation!"

Derek finally reigns it in, letting out a breath.

"Well?" Stiles asks, "You going to explain to me why I shouldn’t call the police right now?"

"Don’t call the police. It’s unnecessary. Look I’ll explain," Derek says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

Stiles makes a motion with his hand for Derek to go on.

"I work at the hospital, and around this time is when I get off of work. This is the only store on way home that’s open this late, so I stop to pick up a few things. I bought an old run-down house on the other side of town, which is why I pick up things like that," Derek points to the items in Stiles’s hands, "because I’m slowly trying to fix it up. I don’t have a lot of free time to do it, so I fix a few things here and there when I can."

"Oh," Stiles says, deflated. "Well then what about your hands?"

Derek sighs. “I got a flat tire half a mile from here, and I had to change it but couldn’t really see anything. Turns out I was on the edge of an embankment and I fell and scrapped up my hands and tore my jeans.”

Stiles winces in sympathy. Derek continues, “And the beer isn’t entirely for me. It’s for my friend. He just broke up with his boyfriend, so I thought I’d cheer him up. Here, you can even call him if you don’t believe me.” Derek pulls out his phone and holds it out for Stiles.

"Oh, no. That’s okay. I believe you. I’m… Wow. Sorry about accusing you of being a serial killer."

"I… forgive you. I mean, now that I think about it, I could maybe see why you would get suspicious."

"See? I mean you are in here every time I work, and I was starting to think you were gunning for me or something!"

Derek seems embarrassed, rubs the back of his neck. “I… guess I do come in here a lot. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

"NO!" Stiles shouts out, his hand flying out for Derek’s arm. "I mean. You don’t have to. I mean, I don’t mind, you know, now that I know you’re not preparing to rob a bank or kidnap someone."

"Wow, robbery and kidnapping on top of the murder? What else have you been imagining I’m doing?"

Stiles flushes red, and unconsciously, his eyes flick to the lube still on the counter. Unfortunately, Derek catches it, and his eyes widen and his ears pink.

"Oh my god, no, that’s not—" Stiles says at the same time Derek says,

"I’m not some kind of sexual deviant!"

Stiles buries his face in his hands and groans. “That’s not what I thought, alright? You’re just… really hot,” he mumbles in his hands. “I promise, I didn’t think you were doing some kind of Fifty Shades of Gray sex torture or anything!”

"Well that’s a relief," Derek mutters.

Stiles sighs. “Look, can we start over maybe? Pretend the last ten minutes of conversation didn’t happen at all?” Derek nods.

Stiles shoots out his arm, “Hi. I’m Stiles. I’m going to college for criminology, have an overactive imagination, work here so I can afford something other than Ramen for dinner, and think you are very attractive and not at all a criminal, murderer, or sex deviant.”

Derek chuckles before shaking Stiles’s hand. “Hi, Stiles. I’m Derek. I work as a pediatric and intensive care nurse at the hospital, come in here way too often mainly so I can talk to you since I mostly talk to children all day, and think you are cute and maybe wish we could go on a date now that you don’t think I’m a criminal, murderer, or a sex deviant.”

"You think I’m cute?"

Derek smiles and nods. “I’m off work tomorrow,” Derek says.

"Tomorrow’s Saturday."

"Yup."

"I… think I’m free? Wait are we scheduling a date right now?"

Derek leans over the counter a little into Stiles’s space. “Yup,” he grins.

"I… oh. Okay."

"Is that a okay you’ll go out with me?"

"Yup."

"Good." Derek takes the pen from the cup on the counter and takes Stiles’s hand in his to write his phone number on his palm. "Text me when you wake up where you live, and I’ll take you to breakfast… or lunch, depending on what time it is."

Stiles smiles looking down at his hand. “Okay.”

Derek leaves a twenty on the counter and takes his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

Stiles nods and looks at the counter to see the lube still sitting there. “Wait, Derek you forgot…”

Derek, halfway out the door, smiles and says, “Sweet dreams.” Then he winks and walks out.

~

Let’s just say the bottle is half-empty by the time Derek picks Stiles up for his first date.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).


End file.
